


Heat

by JulySnow



Category: Adekan
Genre: First Time, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulySnow/pseuds/JulySnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ippei never shows, and a mutual bath goes a little bit differently than either Shiro or Kojiro expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lillian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian/gifts).



“Officer, your chest is hot. Your cheeks are hot, too.”

Kojiro swalled hard as Shiro’s fingers trailed over his chest, head resting on Kojiro’s shoulder. The heat of the day was excruciating; it was why they’d gotten intp the tub in the first place. But it wasn’t helping at all. They were too close in the small tub, bodies intertwined to the point Kojiro wondered if this was magnifying the heat, rather than lessening it. Kojiro was hyperaware of how warm his exposed skin felt, and how warm Shiro’s own skin was, in every place they were touching. Shiro’s fingers brushed his nipple, and he let out a faint gasp.

“Officer?” Shiro asked, looking at him through lidded eyes. He seemed drowsy in the heat, and relaxed despite it, but it was hard to tell with Shiro. He was good at hiding what he eas really thinking, really feeling. Kojiro had to admit, as much as it annoyed him sometimes, it was one of the things he liked about Shiro. He’d always liked mysteries.

“It’s nothing,” he saic, shifting in the hope he’d gain some distance from Shiro, to alleviate the warmth he could feel coursing through his body. “It’s just the heat.”

“Mmm,” Shiro said, letting his head drop, but still watching Kojiro through heavy eyes. He reminded Kojiro of a cat sometimes, with his grace and mysterious ways. (And dislike of clothing, as well.) Usually that was a good thing. He liked cats, and he liked Shiro. But now he just wished Shiro were more open, because he didn’t understand what was happening.

He bit back a sharp breath as Shiro’s fingers brushed over his nipple again, before trailing lower, running slowly over his stomach, tracing the lines of muscle there. He tried to hold himself still, simultaneously being torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to press into the touch. As his hand moved lower still, he did try to pull away, and he felt Shiro shift from his place on his shoulder.

“Officer?” Shiro asked again. His face was close, too close, when did that happen? Kojiro stared at his lips, transfixed. Shiro was watching him intently, face carefully blank, before his expression changed to something Kojiro didn’t recognize, wasn’t sure he liked. Shiro’s hand came up to gently touch his face.

“This heat is unpleasant,” he said, fingers resting on Kojiro’s cheek.

“It is.” They’d both said this already, and part of Kojiro wanted to suggest that maybe they should find another way to cool down, because this clearly wasn’t working. But he found that he didn’t want to move anymore, and he didn’t know why.

“Kojiro,” Shiro said. His fingers gently stroked Kojiro’s hair. And it was odd, Shiro using his name all of a sudden.

So when Shiro kissed him, a gentle brush of lips, it was both the most shocking thing that had ever happened to Kojiro, and completely expected. Shiro’s lips were warm against his, soft and tender, almost hesitant. Kojiro didn’t kiss back, didn’t really know how. But he didn’t stop Shiro either.

“Shiro?” he asked, voice cracking, when Shiro pulled away. “What are you doing?”

Shiro gave him that ineffable look, the one that always frightened Kojiro a little, because it made him look so much older than he should, and so far away. But didn’t say anything, just stroked his fingers down the side of Kojiro’s face. Then his hand abruptly moved away, going lower again, this time more decisively. As Shiro’s hand brushed the fabric barely covering his waist, Kojiro heard himself let out a rather unmanly squeak.

“Shiro—“ His fingers were now moving under the cloth, pushing it aside and moving over warm, overheated skin. Kojiro felt like he was frozen in place. If you’d asked him just ten minutes ago, he would have denied the possibility of this ever happening. After all, he liked women, and Shiro did as well. And yet now that it was happening, it felt inevitable, like there was no other way they could have gone.

Even still, some part of him still wanted to refuse, because this was—wrong. Improper. They shouldn’t be doing this, not now, not ever, and certainly not right here in Shiro’s shop, where someone could come in at any moment.

Except that when Shiro’s fingers brushed against him, he suddenly found he wasn’t so certain about his refusal.

But instead of continuing on, Shiro stopped. He threaded the fingers of his other hand through Kojiro’s hair, pulling his head down so that he was looking Shiro directly in the eye.

“Is this okay?” Shiro asked. Kojiro couldn’t tell what he was thinking. And he still wasn’t sure. But he found himself nodding once, so shallow as to be almost imperceptible. But close as they were, Shiro couldn’t possibly miss it.

With that affirmative approval, Shiro’s hand moved to grasp Kojiro fully, and he bit back a moan. He had, out of necessity, touched himself before, to relieve the tension. But it was nothing like this, practiced fingers touching and caressing in the in too warm water. He thought he’d save himself, for his future wife, that he’d come to her and only her. But even with that thought in mind, he found he couldn’t refuse this, whatever this was.

His eyes fell closed, as Shiro’s clever fingers do their work, so he was surprised when he felt Shiro’s mouth on his again, lips moving wetly against him. He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t have the experience that Shiro did, but he tried all the same, trying to match Shiro’s movements, and letting him lead. Shiro was half on top of him now, and had to go of Kojiro’s cock, hands running up his sides instead. Kojiro wanted to complain at the loss, but he also wanted to pull Shiro closer, to hug him and hold him like this. He remembered, suddenly, vividly, the times he’d thought he’d lost Shiro, the ache from the fear and the blessed relief when he found Shiro again, safe and whole. This was like that, except more, and better, and maybe that was why he found he couldn’t stop.

But apparently Shiro could, because he stood abruptly, getting out of the bath. Kojiro watched him, desperate and now bereft, while Shiro remained carefully controlled.

“Come,” he said, gesturing, then glancing at the door. So he’d noticed that problem. Kojiro had half thought Shiro might be enough of an exhibitionist to like it.

But Kojiro didn’t get up. It all seemed more real, somehow, if he got up and followed Shiro, likely to his bedroom. Here, it still had a deniable quality, an accident between friends. Kojiro knew that if he followed Shiro, it would be something—more.

Shiro had noticed his hesitance, and though he remained hard to read, Kojiro thought he might be hurt. And he just couldn’t bear Shiro thinking that this was about him, that he was being rejected. If there was one thing he hated, it was seeing Shiro in pain.

So he got shakily to his feet, and walked over to Shiro. And then, like he couldn’t help it, Shiro smiled. Kojiro looked down at Shiro, and smiled back helplessly, and pulled him close for a hug.

Shiro was stiff against him, like he usually was when Kojiro did this. But he slowly relaxed, resting his head against Kojiro’s chest.

“Come,” he repeated, pulling back and taking Kojiro’s hand, and Kojiro followed.

The bedroom looked much like it always did. Kojiro had been in here before many times, cleaning and the like, but it was different this time. Different not only because he was not acting in the capacity of Shiro’s friend cum maid cum housekeeper, but also because Shiro’s fingers were digging into his shoulders and guiding him to the futon. Shiro, Kojiro noticed, was becoming more aggressive, pushing him down onto the bedding and then straddling him. Kojiro had found himself in a bit of a daze, but now it all seemed too real. Shiro, barely clothed, sitting just above his hips, and his own clothing lost somewhere on the path to the futon. Shiro leaned over him, fumbling for something in a box on the floor.

“You’re a virgin,” Shiro said. A statement of fact, not a question. But Kojiro still answered.

“I—I mean, you know—“

Shiro shook his head, lips tilting up in a find smile. He leaned forward, lips brushing against Kojiro’s cheek and breath rasping against his ear.

“This probably won’t last long,” Shiro said, his long darting out to lick Kojiro’s ear. Which should have been weird, except it wasn’t weird at all, and Kojiro gasped. He felt like he maybe should be offended at Shiro’s statement, but he was fairly certain Shiro was right, so there didn’t seem to be any point.

Shiro continued to kiss and lick along Kojiro’s neck and face, and Kojiro lost himself in the sensation. One of Shiro’s hands had disappeared, but Kojiro found he couldn’t be bothered to figure out where, not as overwhelmed as he was. But then Shiro pulled away, and Kojiro made a small noise at the loss.

Shiro actually looked nervous, sitting back now. Kojiro lifted his hand and placed it comfortingly on Shiro’s arm. He got a smile in return, and then Shiro moved back further and Kojiro let out a groan.

“Shiro,” he said, part question and part statement.

But Shiro didn’t respond. Instead, he took Kojiro’s cock in a hand which Kojiro now noticed was slick with oil.

“Shiro?” he asked. His fingers tightened around Shiro’s arm.

“Trust me,” Shiro said, and sank down on him.

Kojiro drew in a sharp breath at the feeling of Shiro around him, hot and tight. He had never imagined—well, anything like this. Shiro lifted his body, then came down again, far too slow for Kojiro’s tastes, but still overwhelmingly fast. He reached out blindly with the hand not on Shiro’s arm, resting it on his hip, not to guide him, simply to hold him. He figured Shiro, far more experienced that he was, should take the lead.

And he did, setting a steady rhythm, not too fast or slow. Part of Kojiro wanted him to go faster, but another part of him didn’t want it to end. Shiro was breathing faster now, finally visibly affected by what they were doing. He met Kojiro’s eyes, and there was a raw emotion in there Kojiro was almost surprised to see. It was nothing like the face Shiro wore when he was flirting to get his way, or charming just for fun. It lacked the artifice that was present in so much of what Shiro did, and it made Kojiro want to hold him closer, to keep him safe. No one else should be able to see this vulnerability Shiro was showing right now.

He reached moved his hand up Shiro’s arm, reaching for his head, and twined his fingers through his hair. Shiro got the message, leaning down to kiss him. He knew it must be bad, sloppy and clumsy and unpracticed, but Shiro didn’t seem to mind, breathing hard against his mouth and keeping up his rhythm.

And now that Shiro was leaning over, Kojiro could tell there was another pressing issue. Shiro was, of course, as hard as he was. And yet Kojiro hesitated. He didn’t really know what to do. Everything had been Shiro from the start. But it seemed rude, to let him hang there.

So Kojiro moved his from Shiro’s hip, and snaked it between their bodies, wrapping it loosely around his cock. He felt Shiro gasp against his mouth as he ran a finger over the head, tightening his grip around it. Shiro bucked his hips into the hand, pressing into Kojiro’s hold, flushed and panting now. Kojiro knew he was close, knew that this had to end soon, just as Shiro had said. He increased the speed of his movements on Shiro’s cock, eliciting a small moan from him. Shiro in turn increased his own speed, and Kojiro had to shut his eyes as he came, fingers clenched tight in Shiro’s hair, lips moving against his.

Shiro pulled off him, rolling to the side with his back to Kojiro. He still hadn’t come himself, and that seemed unfair.

“Shiro,” he whispered. Shiro didn’t respond, and Kojiro scooted closer, pressing against his back and wrapping an arm around his to clasp his still hard cock.

Shiro tensed but didn’t protest as Kojiro resumed his motions. He was tired and blissful, but he couldn’t leave Shiro waiting, unfulfilled. He kissed the back of Shiro’s neck, listening to his breathing and tasting his overheated skin as he set a rhythm, savoring the closeness, and the almost inaudible sounds Shiro was making.

Then Shiro came, silent and breathless. Kojiro pulled his hand, a sticky mess. And now what? Should they wash up? Should he leave? He made a motion to roll over, to get to his feet, but a hand grabbed his arm.

“Stay,” Shiro said. Nothing more. He’d never been effusive, though. Not about these things.

Kojiro smiled against his neck, and pulled him close. Somehow the heat no longer seemed so unbearable.


End file.
